For the rest of February and for the first two weeks of March, I'll be discussing writing habits that have helped me as a writer.
Many years ago, as a teen, I competed in sprints and shot put competitions. In college, I fenced foil and saber. Freedom of movement was woven into the fabric of my identity – until a series of injuries and health challenges began to rewrite my story. I've had nineteen surgeries to date. I thought that was the worst, but then... Two years ago, a bad fall left me with whiplash and bone-deep bruises on my knees and one of my hands. The doctors' orders were clear: stay off my feet for two months, then three more. My world narrowed to the walk down our house hallway.
During physical therapy, I found myself starting over from the very beginning. Finally, I could walk up and down our driveway, practicing movements that had once been as natural as breathing. Those steps were both humbling and profound – each one a reminder that sometimes our greatest growth begins in the smallest spaces.
Over two years, those driveway walks expanded, step by step, into two-mile journeys. Now, I complement these walks with spontaneous dance sessions around my house – finding joy in movement that once felt impossible. This journey taught me something crucial about creative growth: the path to mastery isn't always linear, and sometimes our most significant breakthroughs come when we honor where we are rather than where we think we should be.
As writers, we often pressure ourselves to sprint before we can walk. We look at accomplished authors and try to match their word counts, their publishing schedules, their seemingly effortless productivity. But what if we approached our writing practice with the same patience and progressive training mindset that helped me reclaim my mobility?
My years of writing and teaching writing have shown me that writing excellence is built through progressive training, just like any other skill.
Let's start with an honest assessment of where you are right now. Are you struggling to write 500 words a day? Or are you consistently hitting 2,000 words but finding your dialogue feels flat? Understanding your starting point isn't about judgment – it's about creating a realistic training plan. When I first started tracking my writing, I was shocked to discover how little I was writing most days, and how much I could write when I sat down to do a "little" every day.
The key to progressive training is making small, manageable increases in challenge. Think of it as adding one more step to your daily walk. If you're writing 500 words daily, aim for 550 next week. If you've mastered single-perspective stories, try writing a scene from two different characters' viewpoints. The goal is to push yourself just beyond your comfort zone without becoming overwhelmed.
Here's where many writers go wrong: they try to jump from writing occasional short stories to cranking out 5,000 words daily while learning complex plot structures. That's like trying to run a marathon when you've barely mastered walking your driveway. Instead, focus on one aspect of your craft at a time. Maybe this month you'll work on increasing your word count, and next month you'll focus on deepening your character development.
The magic happens in the showing up.
This brings us to one of the most crucial aspects of progressive training: avoiding burnout. Just as I had to learn to listen to my body during recovery, writers need to pay attention to their creative energy. If your writing starts feeling mechanical or you're dreading your daily session, it might be time to ease back on the intensity. I've learned to schedule regular "creative refueling/writer's date" days where I read, watch movies, or simply observe the world around me.
Some of the most successful writers I know have used this progressive training approach. Brandon Sanderson famously wrote thirteen novels before getting published, gradually increasing his skill with each book. Andy Weir spent years honing his craft through short stories before writing "The Martian." Their success wasn't about innate talent – it was about consistent, structured practice.
The beauty of progressive training is that it turns writing improvement into a series of achievable challenges rather than an overwhelming mountain to climb. Each small victory builds confidence, and before you know it, you're writing at a level you once thought impossible – just as those small steps down my driveway eventually led to miles of walking and dancing.
Here’s a sample progressive training plan for your writing (list format below):
Let me share with you the same kind of progressive training plan that helped me move from driveway walks to neighborhood adventures, adapted for your writing journey. Think of this as your own rehabilitation program for creativity, designed to build strength gradually and sustainably.
During your first two weeks, focus on establishing your baseline, just as I had to understand my body's new limitations. Begin with fifteen-minute freewriting sessions. These are your driveway walks – short, manageable, and foundational. Pay attention to the sensory details around you as you write, much like I had to relearn awareness of each step. Notice when fatigue or resistance appears; these are valuable signals, not limitations. Track your natural writing rhythm without judgment, understanding that this is your current starting point, not your final destination.
As you move into weeks three and four, allow for gentle expansion, similar to how I gradually extended my walking distance. Stretch your writing sessions to twenty or twenty-five minutes. Begin crafting character sketches, like taking those first tentative steps beyond the driveway. Experiment with dialogue, letting your characters find their voices just as I rediscovered my own strength. Keep a creativity journal to track your progress – these are your physical therapy notes for the mind.
In your second month, you're ready to build complexity, much like I progressed from basic walking to dancing. Start experimenting with different story structures – these are your new movement patterns. Layer in deeper themes, like adding subtle stretches to your exercise routine. Practice scene transitions, moving your stories forward with the same deliberate intention I used to expand my walking route. Work on character depth, allowing your creations to become as real and three-dimensional as the world I rediscovered step by step.
Remember, just as my recovery wasn't linear, your writing development won't be either. There will be days when the words flow effortlessly, like those mornings when my body felt strong and capable. Other days, you might need to scale back, to return to those fifteen-minute sessions or simple character sketches. This isn't regression – it's respect for your creative process.
Your journey might take longer than two months. It's okay.
My challenge for you is this: What's your driveway? What small, consistent step can you take today in your writing journey? Choose one area from the progressive plan above, and commit to showing up consistently.
Progressive Example Plan as a List (and More):
Week 1-2 (or more): Establishing Baseline
- - Start with 15-minute freewriting sessions
- - Focus on observation and sensory details
- - Track your natural writing rhythm
- - Notice when resistance or fatigue appears
Week 3-4 (or more) Gentle Expansion:
- - Extend sessions to 20-25 minutes
- - Introduce simple character sketches
- - Begin exploring dialogue
- - Keep a creativity journal
Month 2 (or when ready):
- Experiment with story structure
- Layer in deeper themes
- Practice scene transitions
- Work on character depth
Remember to rest as needed:Schedule regular reading days
Engage in different art forms
Connect with other writers
Have Renewal/Refuel/Writer's Date Days
Every masterpiece begins with a single word, just as every journey begins with a single step.
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